


cascade

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Series: and then shall that wicked be revealed [2]
Category: BioShock, Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you coming, Dad?” Toni asks, her face peeking up and over the sofa. Parts of her hair is dyed green this week, and it curls in soft waves against her shoulders. She smells like patchouli and faintly of car grease, so she’s probably been out with Dean working on the Impala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cascade

**Author's Note:**

> Day 31 of the Holiday Writing Challenge on tumblr [over here](http://giraffe-tier.tumblr.com/post/35469673249/winter-drawing-writing-challenge). Prompt was 'family/friend pictures'. This was scheduled to be a SPN ensemble drabble, but Cici recently mentioned this universe, which made me want to dabble with it. So dabble I did. Happy New Year, everybody! See you on the other side!

There’s are several things in Castiel’s trench coat. A rock from the planet Feldspoon that the Doctor had pressed upon him, smiling. It glitters in the sunlight in a way that no rock from the planet Earth does, sending rainbow hued light dancing across his skin. A lock of hair from the priestess ඇඹරැල්ලා from a desert planet light years away. He’d been wary about keeping it with him, but she’d looked at him with eyes as red and burning as the heart of a dying star, and told him that if he kept it on him, it would keep him safe.  
  
There is a tiny clay sculpture that Toni (“It’s Toni, dad, seriously. Stop calling me Masha.”) had made for him when she was twelve and been stuck in her art phase. It is reminiscent of the necklace that Dean had once possessed, the little face elegantly crafted if slightly lopsided.  
  
And then there are three very important photos.  
  
The first is aged, charred along the edges where it had taken damage before Castiel had rescued it from the fire. Dean and Sam are much younger in the photo, forever gazing somberly at the camera lens. It should have been a happy photo, but instead, the little faces are morose. Ellen has a determined glint in her eyes, jaw set, as if daring the world to try her on. Jo sags a bit into the arm Dean has slung over her shoulder, a sad tilt to her mouth. Bobby still has the wheelchair, his knuckles white against the wheels.  
  
It’s a memory of times gone by and the family that they’ve lost. It hurts, to look at sometimes, but it is important nevertheless. He knows more than Sam and Dean that the people they’ve lost are happy, for Castiel has made it that way. Their heavens are crafted with perfection, linked to Ash’s and Pamela’s and every other person who have loved the Winchester’s over the years.  
  
The second photo is just as aged, though a bit less burnt. The edges are bent upward, thumbprints against the ink, as if it has been pulled out and looked at time and time again. It’s just a snapshot of Sam and Dean that he had plucked off of an art student years ago. The boy had found the age in the Winchester’s gazes compelling, and so he had snapped the photo before they noticed. It isn’t perfect, but it has helped Castiel overcome many trials over the years.  
  
And the third and final photograph is perhaps the most important.  
  
The Doctor grins at them, arms flung around Amy and Rory—who both beam back at the camera. Amy is caught mid-laugh, her head thrown back, her eyes bright and crinkled, while Rory smiles softly over at her, eyes only for her. River stands off to their side, pressing a kiss to a startled Sam’s cheek while Dean glowers at them both from where he’s crouching next to a tiny, beaming Toni. She’d been ten or eleven at the time, back when she’d still answered to Masha, before she’d started stealing the TARDIS once a year. Castiel himself crouches on her other side, one hand tucked affectionately against the nape of her neck, Dean’s hand covering his.  
  
It is his favorite photo, even now, years later.  
  
There have been many other pictures over the years—pictures where Toni is older, with grease streaked across her cheeks or ribbons in her hair or covering her face, laughing. But this one is the only one they have where they are all together, the only one where all of his favorite people in all the worlds are smiling and laughing. Before Rory and Amy had been lost to the weeping angels, before the Doctor had stopped smiling as much. Before River had stopped showing up in their timestream quite as often. It had been... before.  
  
“Are you coming, Dad?” Toni asks, her face peeking up and over the sofa. Parts of her hair is dyed green this week, and it curls in soft waves against her shoulders. She smells like patchouli and faintly of car grease, so she’s probably been out with Dean, working on the Impala. She’d installed some form of time hopping device in it a few weeks back and Dean had been very startled when they’d ended up in the 1800s instead of the grocery store last week. Though, probably not as much as the couple they’d driven past before wrestling the controls back to the mid-90s.  
  
He gets to his feet, feeling Jimmy’s joints creak. He keeps the body from aging, but sometimes the effects of time still get to it. Toni beams at him, her face lighting up, and she skips around so she can press a kiss to his cheek. “C’mon, Space Dad’s trying to cook and you know how bad this regeneration is at it.”  
  
“Where’s your father?” Castiel asks, but if he knows Dean at all—  
  
She rolls her eyes. “He’s still trying to get rid of my vortex manipulator even though I’ve told him that he isn’t going to be able to do anything without my help.”  
  
“Your father is quite stubborn.”  
  
She snorts. “That is the understatement of the universe. He’s worse than Space Mom.”  
  
Castiel moves around the couch, trying not to trip on the Christmas tree. It’s enormous, namely because the Doctor had brought it back from another planet. It had only fit inside the house after the Doctor had jury-rigged it with some form of... device.  
  
“We’ll work on getting Daddy away from the car once we stop Space Dad from burning the house down. Now, seriously, c’mon—”  
  
Castiel follows her. There will be enough time to reflect on the path later.  
  
Time to bring in the new year.


End file.
